We’re Forgoing Titles for a While

“I think shy is boring. I think depressed is too. I think pretty is nice, but I’d rather see something new.”

-Ms DiFranco (or should that be Mr DiFranco?)

Depression is boring. It’s not tormented, pretty writers downing whiskeys in the afternoon.

Okay, sometimes it is.

But usually it’s not. A common misconception: depression=sad. Nope. It is not about being sad. Sadness flows. Sadness is real and alive and beautiful. Depression, on the other hand, is really fucking uncomfortable. It’s showering and still feeling dirty. It’s feeling like a gooseberry. It’s crying ‘cos you ran out of milk. It’s awkward and lumpy and fat. Personally, I would rather be awesome and laughing and phat. I’m not. And that irks me.

But I had two epiphanies today.

One: I’m depressed because I’m bored.

True story.

I have a job which is pretty much the same every day + it’s minimum wage and my make-up has to be flawless + my hours aren’t regular= FML

I have been going to my gym for a year=bored of the classes=I don’t go=I feel fat=depression

My friends are scattered here and there (across the world and Athens alike)+we work very different hours anyway=no adventures=boredom


This is all changing soon.

But until then…


So do you know what I’m going to do?

I am going to hit the shit out of the gym (starting tomorrow).

And I am going to read/finish reading 11 books this month.

In other words, I am giving myself little goals to make me feel like I’m living for something.


Oh right, Epiphany #2: It’s not so much that I get depressed. It’s more that the ratio of depression vs getting on with life seems really out of whack. It’s like, instead of depressive episodes interrupting life, occasionally, life interrupts my depression. Is what they meant when they said math skills were forever?

In conclusion: Since I can’t kill myself, I might as well read a book.

Sure, you can quote me on that.



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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

7 thoughts on “We’re Forgoing Titles for a While”

  1. Perfect description of depression.

    I would like to pose a question, if you please. I’m sure you have many admirers from afar (I don’t think I’ve ever looked at your site stats or the other comments on here…I just assume that if I could randomly be introduced to your words than many others likely are). For my part, affection for someone’s writing – distinct from admiration which is less personal – is never about just the words. It’s another life lived, experienced maybe, so deeply as to touch the roots of things and so broadly as to be compelled to overcome our silly words and speak life, love, despair, etc. to the face of things if only so the cosmos knows…knows that you know and that you persist.

    The question: how much does that influence your knowledge of yourself? Is this – what you share and, I suppose, what you think it’s possible for someone like me to understand – an insurmountable barrier to any kind of meaningful expression from us to who you are? Who knows you? Do the words of people to you only go so far depending who they are: a certain distance for your mom and only on certain topics, a different distance and scope for your friends, and so forth?

    I am very curious to hear your answer. Sometimes, your recent posts are just examples, the need to say what seems obvious (yet is still profound…in a truly human sense) is tempered by the truth that I can only claim to understand so much…and probably much less in your estimation. By any measure, whether large or small, the universe is better with the presence of someone like you.

  2. I am sorry you are bored, but that is a valid why of describing depression. You sound better in the post. The tone is positive. The humor irreverent. Keep giving yourself goals and finding new experiences.

  3. Whatever works, my friend. Whatever works.

    My therapist suggests to me that the key is to change. Change your shoes. Walk a different route to the park. Drive down a different street. Park at the back instead of the front. Don’t wear a bra. Do something, ANYTHING, different than you did yesterday. The key is to break up the ice that is clogging up your soul.

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